


Bloody Hands

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Confused Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: When a Curse hits Camelot, the one with the most blood on their hands is the only one who can pass.While the Knights discuss, Merlin knows it's him
Relationships: Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 601





	Bloody Hands

Merlin was a murderer.

_‘He who has the most blood on his hands shall pass.’_

During his time in Camelot, Merlin had done many things he regretted.

_‘No other may touch the barrier, on pain of death.’_

The Warlock knew, in his gut, that it was him. He stayed still, staring at the shimmering orb around them, encasing them, keeping them from the item that they had travelled for days to reach.

Once the cup was emptied, Camelot’s lands would be cleared of the curse, and the people would once more thrive. Arthur, taking it upon himself as King, had ordered the mission to the Perilous Lands. The Magic here was uncoordinated, dangerous, and Merlin suspected that was why he’d asked Morgana to stay behind.

‘When my family were killed,’ Percival rarely spoke up, but when he did, it was worthy of the attention of each of the Knights, ‘I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. In a search for answers, I killed at least a dozen men.’ Merlin wanted to defend the man, to point out that he had every reason for doing so, that it didn’t make him a bad person.

‘I admit that I, too, have blood on my hands. My time as a traveller meant I encountered many bandits.’ Lancelot spoke up, from his position by Merlin’s side. It allowed the Warlock to ignore the group, looking to the other side of the barrier, to the pedestal.

If they got this wrong, the person who touched the barrier would perish. It made sense that they were explaining what they had done, the people they had wronged.

He risked a glance to Arthur, wondering if the King would ever forgive him. After all, admitting to Magic was one thing.

Admitting to being a murderer, a man that had spilt innocent blood, was quite another.

‘I fought as a soldier, I must have more blood than the two of you staining my hands.’ Elyan cut in, eyes filled with a guilt that Merlin could never show.

Merlin remembered the conversation with Morgause, the two of them standing on the border between Camelot and Escetir, trying to decide who was doing the most for Magic.

_‘You betrayed your kind, by defending the tyrant. All their blood, it’s on your hands.’_

She hadn't been trying to insult. It was a simple fact, Merlin had stood by and watched as hundreds died, had been _responsible_ for their deaths. While Morgana had defended them, had angered Uther by her words and statements, Merlin had hid in the shadows.

He’d only told Arthur about his Magic because the King found him warming bathwater.

‘Hate to interrupt this touching moment,’ Gwaine cheerfully announced, grinning to hide his own emotions, ‘But I’ve been in a fair share of brawls up and down Albion. No way is Elyan here beating my record.’ It fitted Gwaine’s persona perfectly, Merlin mused, to make such a joke.

‘We’re talking about _murder_ , show some respect.’ Leon snapped, but it was more out of fear than anger.

He turned to the King slowly, Arthur looking right back at him.

‘Sire, I would suspect this is my burden. I served Uther, while you were still training, and I accompanied his Knights on multiple raids.’ Of Druid Villages, the unspoken words that Merlin considered as he looked at the cup.

Leon had been following his loyalty to the Crown. Merlin? He’d been hiding, cowardly, afraid of being caught.

‘As did I.’ Arthur stated, voice low, flicking a glance to Merlin.

The guilt was what struck Merlin, the fact that Arthur looked so ashamed for what he’d done. Like he would go back, if he could, to change everything he’d done.

Merlin wouldn’t.

It sounded selfish, naïve. But he had brought Arthur to the throne, had managed to protect the King and his sister, and that was his greatest triumph.

‘Sire…’ Leon began, but Arthur held a hand up.

‘I have killed innocents. I led the Knights, and I fear my excursions from Camelot without the Knights may take my guilt higher than yours.’ He was acting strong, shoulders set back, like he wished to hide the fact that he was struggling under the crushing weight of his acts.

Merlin didn’t need to straighten his shoulders. He was guilty, and after this, Arthur would never forgive him.

‘Sire…’ Elyan began, but Lancelot was quicker.

‘You are not to blame for your upbringing, Arthur.’ Usually, it would have been Merlin doing that, reassuring his King.

Instead, Merlin was trying to work out why he was making it worse for himself by listening.

‘It has to be over a hundred. It is inexcusable.’ The number made him feel sick. Bile swirled in his gut, watching the sympathy that the Knights offered their King.

Merlin stepped forward, to the group, and looked up at Arthur.

‘You’re the best King Albion’s ever seen, Arthur. Any blood you think may be on your hands,’ Merlin tried for a smile, ‘It was what made you the royal you are now.’

Arthur’s baffled look would, sadly, be the last emotion he managed to see on the King’s face. Or, at least, it would be the last good expression. After he did this, it would be changed to disgust.

Merlin, ignoring the way that Arthur’s eyes widened as he realised what the Warlock was about to do, darted through the group and to the barrier.

He passed through it, with nothing more than a faint prickle of pain, a light warmth that he shrugged off as he remained unharmed.

No doubt Arthur had skidded to a halt behind him, confused.

‘You have passed the first challenge.’ The man appeared once again, dressed in simple robes as he stayed on the steps to the Cup.

‘What must I do to rid Camelot of the curse?’ Merlin questioned, taking another step closer.

‘I ask three questions, to prove your worth.’ The Warlock moved further from the barrier, let his Magic creep out to try and identify what was in the Cup.

He was really hoping he didn’t have to drink it.

‘Your first kill, and why.’ He didn’t phrase it as a question, a simple statement that had Merlin’s eyes darting to him, then back to the cup.

‘Edwin Muirden.’ He paused at the name, it had been a long time since he’d ever had to speak those words.

‘Why?’ The man questioned, looking at him curiously.

‘He tried to kill the King.’

‘That’s not the truth.’

‘He tried to kill Uther, and Gaius went to stop him. Edwin threatened Gaius, so I killed him. Accidentally, I didn’t… I wasn’t aiming to kill.’ He’d seen Gaius, and he’d panicked. If he lost his Uncle, Merlin would have very little to keep him safe in Camelot.

‘That is the truth.’ The robed-man agreed, before his expression once again faded to one of contemplation.

‘Your last kill, and why.’

This one, Merlin did have to pause on.

‘King Cenred.’

In his defence, regicide had never been his intention.

‘To save Lady Morgana, and protect Morgause from him. He… he knew they had Magic, and Cenred was responsible for capturing hundreds of sorcerers.’ Morgause had looked up at him, the band of iron around her neck, studying him curiously as he lowered his hands.

It had been agreed that she would take the fall, and that King Lot would rise to the throne.

‘Do you regret it?’ The man asked, allowing Merlin to take another step closer.

‘Is that the third question?’ He shot back, knowing it wasn’t.

When the robed-man raised an eyebrow, Merlin shook his head.

‘No. I don’t. I’d do it again, if it kept Morgana safe.’ If it kept Arthur safe, Merlin thought. Morgana needed to be in Camelot, because if she wasn’t… She’d be after Arthur’s throne.

‘The kill you regret the most.’

Merlin halted, looking down to his hands, then back to the man.

‘Intentionally?’ When he received no answer, Merlin concluded that he should proceed.

‘Freya.’ He hadn't killed her, not technically.

But he knew it was the correct answer. Knew it, because the robed-man smiled slightly.

‘She was not slain by your hand.’

‘No, but she died _because_ of me.’

‘Did she? Or would your King have killed her, regardless of your presence?’

‘It was my idea for her to try and flee. It was my persuasion, that ended with Arthur finding her. If I had not have loved her,’ He halted, the word sinking far deeper than he expected, ‘She might have lived.’

‘I shall accept your answer, Emrys. You may take the Cup.’

He reached it, but somehow, Merlin knew he wasn’t worthy of the victory. This credit, it should have been Arthur’s.

‘You may pour the liquid to the earth, if your heart has been true.’

‘And if it has not?’ Merlin, as a child of Magic, tended to obey the rules of the Old Religion.

‘Then drink it, and bear the burden.’

He didn’t have to drink it.

Then again, he didn’t have to kill all those people. He could have abandoned Arthur, gone back to his life and forgotten about the Prince.

He was thankful that the barrier didn’t allow him to hear the Knights, because he already knew what their reactions would be.

His fingers lingered, wanting to tip it to the earth, but he couldn’t.

Merlin was a murderer.

But it was only ever for Arthur, and for that, he didn’t regret it. Not truly, and so he had not been honest at heart.

He rose the cup to his lips, and drained the liquid.


End file.
